


Human Nature

by PWeasley99



Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Good vs Evil, Homophobia, Human Nature, Lesbian Parents, Original work - Freeform, human suffering, sensitive subject matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PWeasley99/pseuds/PWeasley99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>/This is the darker side of our world that we are only just beginning to realise exists/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Domestic Violence/Rape Victim

**Author's Note:**

> If this work offends anyone, I'm sorry, that's not my intention. It's just some things that I thought up and thought that I could share them with you guys. I hope you like them <3
> 
> I love you all and kudos and nice comments are well received :D

I tried to run. I really tried. But he was too fast. He gripped my hair with his huge hands and pulled me closer, closer, until I was practically sitting in his lap. His hot breath tickled my neck and fear spiked my insides. The desperate need to flea flooded my brain until it was the only feeling I was capable of. It was either me or my sister. I’m glad he chose me, or it might’ve been my sister who was subjected to the same torment that I am now living. I wonder what she’s doing right now… probably out shopping with mum. It’s that time of the week when mum usually goes to buy milk. Like clockwork…

Mum did the right thing to leave dad when she did. Too many times he hurt her, and too many times she had to pick up the pieces of her dignity, and sometimes, shattered pieces of her favourite porcelain tableware. He hurt my sister too. The nights when mum made dad sleep on the couch he would always come in to our room. I could hear him in the bed next to mine. I was scared. I’m positive that my sister was too.

I come back to myself as the callouses on his hands touch the soft skin on my thigh. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. When will my torment end?


	2. Psychopath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psychopathic patient who has escaped from a mental hospital.

Everyone has their internal demons. Mine are just a bit more... external. They invite me into their tomb of eternal blackness, where I can't see a thing, but I can feel the primal urges quickly overwhelming what shred of sanity I already possess. Crimson clouds my vision, and suddenly, I'm flailing; floundering in an ocean of insatiable blood lust. “Kill” “Maim” “Kill” the voices say. They talk to me at the times that I feel desperate, like now. 

They guide me and tell me what to do, although they talk through my own mouth. I am compelled to reply when they speak, so I do. I stumble out of the darkness of the alleyway as my vision begins to clear, but not by much, and step out onto the busy side walk.

The people stare at me, but I have them fooled. Ever heard of the phrase “a wolf in sheep's clothing”? I am the definition of that phrase; a predator disguised as the prey. Only one person besides me and my demons knows of this, and that's Dr Henry Matthews. He understands me like no one else does. I heard him talking to a nurse the other day when I went to visit him. “Behind the mask of sanity lurks something more sinister”, he had said. He can be so poetic at times, but he was right. I am dangerous. I am the loyal servant of the grim reaper.

Hush now, for I see a new soul that I must deliver my master. I feel in my pocket for the familiar cold metal of my personal scythe. I draw closer now, winding through the crowd like a venomous snake tailing a small rodent. I'm almost there; the voices of my demons are growing louder, chanting foul oaths and horrid curses. “Kill” “Maim” “Kill”. Crimson once again floods my vision and I can see my demons now, black dots and lines that move in and out of my over-dilated pupils. I lick my lips and slowly take out my knife, easing it out of it's hiding place.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and strike, piercing flesh and puncturing vessels and tendons beneath. Blood splatters and spills over creamy skin, flowing onto the pavement like a red river. A startled shriek and a flash of light breaks the demon's spell. I fall to the ground, muscles contorting with spasm after spasm. The demons flee into the darkness of my subconscious as I, myself, remain on the material plain. A sharp pain in my right arm indicates that I have been incapacitated temporarily for now, so I decide to reside in my concious mind. I dream of boot-trodden paths that wind through dewy meadows and leafless, mossy forests; a place where my demons can't reach me.

Oh, but how blue skies can morph to grey so quickly. They come, black tears spilling from even blacker eyes over deathly white faces. They lead me to an elevator and press the button that goes directly to the basement level. The doors close and I am, once again, alone. I watch as the numbers click down, the rattle of the elevator's wooden panels being a constant soundtrack in my my equally constant torment. 10...9...8...7...6... the countdown continues. 5...4... screaming. Horrible, high-pitched, tortured, delicious screaming. 3...2...1...G... The elevator shakes and rattles. Finally...B...my stop. The lights in the elevator flicker, just like in one of those predictable horror movies. They go out, as expected. The door opens and I step through into another black abyss. I've been here more than I would care to admit. It's my demons' way of putting my off guard so that when they decide to strike, they can take me by surprise. But I'm ready for them. And I don't care what Dr Matthews says; I will find another way to escape where I'm going. I always do.


	3. Alcoholism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man who drinks away his pain

I remember a time when things were simple. Not simple as in dull; simple as in easier. My life was going so well before… her. I used to go out with the guys every Sunday. There’s a local pub on the corner that we used to frequent. The smell of smoke, both stale and new, would always hit our nostrils before we’d even stepped inside. The door to the bar had a squeaky hinge that no one would bother to oil. Drunken hollers and slurred banter erupted as soon as the barrier was breached between the sober world and the world of no regrets. We’d catcall some of the tarts that considered themselves “regulars”, drink until we were kicked out and then stumble home, singing loudly and gaily for all to hear.

But that Sunday… something was different. It was October, last year. The guys and I swaggered in, as usual, and I saw her; a pretty blonde sitting on a barstool, gingerly sipping on a pint of gin and tonic, looked about twenty. She caught me looking and smiled sweetly. I quickly ditched my mates to meet her. That was my first mistake. I told her my name, and she told me hers. Marcia. Beautiful, just like her. I told her so and she blushed. That’s how it began.  
We’d been going steady for about two months and I was ready to go that next step further. She was a ‘wait till marriage’ kind of girl. So I did what any desperate man would do. I proposed. That was my second mistake.

I don’t remember much of the first week of our marriage. It all went by in a flash of white dresses, happy smiles and red painted lips. We were happy at first, Marcia and I. We’d indulge in moonlit picnics and chocolate covered strawberries at least twice a week. The sex was good too. But that obviously wasn’t enough for Marcia. Countless letters from satisfied lovers would find their way into the growing pile of bills and debts as the weeks dragged on into months. My whole world was slowly crumbling away into nothingness. I felt unwanted. I was losing my Marcia.

The divorce was brutal. I drank excessively for weeks on end. I found a new pub to frequent, since the one on the corner brought back memories that were too painful to remember. I knew I shouldn’t, but I missed her. I still miss her. I guess that that was my third mistake; leaving her. That is the mistake which I regret the most.


	4. Crime

[DEBORAH is a liaison, working for the police, undercover, in London's criminal underworld. The police have called her in to get a confession from MONTY; a notorious hired killer, working for a powerful, but anonymous, boss. DEBORAH is intelligent and has experience will the criminal classes, after spending many years practising and begin undercover. She has been looking for MONTY's boss for months, but can't seem to find any connections leading to him. Then MONTY comes along (he was caught escaping a crime scene after his latest hired kill). MONTY looks up to higher power for guidance (his boss), and he proves to be quite easy to manipulate, even though he has no idea that he is being played by DEBORAH. He thinks he is smarter than DEBORAH. The scene takes place before the case goes to court, they just need MONTY to confess.]

[DEBORAH looks at a suspect profile. “MONTGOMERY STANG” is the name that reads on the front cover. She walks through the door to the interview room and sees MONTY, who is sitting on a chair in front of a table. He is in handcuffs.]

MONTY: I'm not gonna tell you anything! You think you can come in here and expect me to talk? Well that ain't gonna happen! I have my rights!

DEBORAH: I know. That's why I've come to help you. [sits down on a chair at the opposite end of the table]

MONTY: [suspicious] Why?

DEBORAH: Because, unlike the others, I'm the only one that believes your story.

MONTY: [scoffs]

DEBORAH: I happen to be very... insightful, when it comes to the criminal classes.

MONTY: Who are you?

DEBORAH: My name is of no importance at the moment. All you need to know is that I have the smarts and the right connections to get you out of here if we play our cards right. I believe that you are innocent and I'm willing to help if you'll let me.

MONTY: What's in it for me?

DEBORAH: Freedom. Plus a small price that we will discuss on a later date. Today we are here to discuss you and your impending imprisonment for a crime you didn't commit.

MONTY: Who says I didn't commit it?

DEBORAH: Didn't you?

MONTY: You're all talk aren't you! You say that you're so smart and are so well connected. But I can prove you wrong!

DEBORAH: I'm never wrong.

MONTY: So you think I didn't kill her?

DEBORAH: Positive.

MONTY: Well that's where you're wrong!

DEBORAH: Oh! Then do enlighten me.

MONTY: You think you're smart. But I can see through your bluff! You don't like being wrong! You think that you can just offer me something that no money can buy, based on your belief in something so... mechanical, like a story? You're obviously not as smart as you make out to be.

DEBORAH: Are you willing to expand on that? How exactly am I wrong? Are you saying that you did, in fact, kill her?

MONTY: I'm not telling you anything.

DEBORAH: Oh come on. I thought you said you can prove me wrong. If you have no evidence to support that claim then how am I inclined to believe you?

Pause.

MONTY: It was easy. One bullet in the brain was all it took. She died pretty quick after that.

DEBORAH: Why though? I think you did it all of your own accord...

MONTY: Wrong again! Not going well, are we? Not so smart now! The Boss made me do it.

DEBORAH: The Boss?

MONTY: Yeah. The Scorpion; Mr Elyssies...

DEBORAH: [stands] Thank you Mr Stang. I think I've got just enough information to ensure your permanent imprisonment. [pulls back her jacket flashed her police badge then covers it again. Turns and walks towards the door]

MONTY: You tricked me! Wait! Where are you going? Oh god! What did I do?

DEBORAH: [turns back to MONTY] Exactly what I wanted. Have a nice trial Mr Stang. I hope the odds are in your favour. [turns around, smirks and exits out of the interview room]


	5. Homophobia

[Amelia (MILLY) is a seventeen-year-old girl who likes to cause trouble. She lives with her lesbian mothers SHERRYL, who works as the manager at the local IGA, and CLAIRE, who works a casual job as an administrator at a doctor's surgery. They are a typical Australian family, with a slight twist to suit today's society. In this scene, MILLY has just arrived home early and is shown walking into the lounge room, dragging her feet across the ground. She throws her backpack into the corner of the room and walks behind the couch (where CLAIRE is sitting eating a bag of Smith's chips, crossing to the other side of the stage, but when CLAIRE speaks, MILLY stops.]

CLAIRE: You're home early.  
MILLY: Yeah.  
CLAIRE: Something happen?  
MILLY: I got sent home.  
CLAIRE: Seriously? What for?  
MILLY: Apparently offering to pay the tuckshop lady with a lap dance is considered “inappropriate” and “unacceptable”.  
CLAIRE: [laughs] Well in that case, pull up a chair, Neighbours is just about to start.  
MILLY: [sits next to CLAIRE on the couch] You never watch soapies, reckon they're rubbish. What happened?  
CLAIRE: Just bored and need something to laugh at. Today, the bad acting is it.  
MILLY: Fair enough.

[They watch for a few seconds]

MILLY: You regretting it yet?  
CLAIRE: Regretting what?  
MILLY: Watching horrible soapies.  
CLAIRE: Nah... wait... yeah. Now I remember why I never watch these things. The acting isn't funny, just sad.

[A phone rings]

MILLY: I'll get it. [picks up the phone] Hello? Oh, hi mum... I got sent home... I'll explain later... yeah, ma's here... she's watching soapies... [laughs] that's what I told her but she did it anyway... yeah, so many regrets... ok, I'll tell her... hey, are you ok? You sound a bit off... Oh no. Really? That makes me so mad!... right, I'll do that... ok... love you too, bye. [hangs up]  
CLAIRE: Was that you mother?  
MILLY: Yeah.  
CLAIRE: What did she want?  
MILLY: Just checking in, says she'll be a bit late to dinner tonight.  
CLAIRE: That all?  
MILLY: Um... no. She was also the brunt of some homophobic insults today at work from a rather difficult customer. But she's handling it.  
CLAIRE: Oh dear... this always happens... your mother's a strong woman, but she still feels things, sometimes more than others. I'm glad to hear she's handling it, that at least makes me feel a little better.  
MILLY: [is silent for a moment] Ma, why can't people just accept others for who they are?  
CLAIRE: I'm afraid that's the world we live in, Pumpkin. Now, tell me about that lap dance you were gonna do. What was the exact look on her face when you offered?

[MILLY pulls a face of utter comical shock and disgust. They both fall into tears of laughter.]


	6. Theft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a bit of comic relief to sooth all those serious vibes haha
> 
> It was originally called "The Oscars", but I changed the title to fit it in with the theme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tish is a character that I based off myself and what I would do in that situation, and also I strange dream I had in which this happened... woke up laughing to say the least XD

[The scene takes place backstage at The Oscars. TISH is an intern and assisting ELLIOT, who is the stage manager. She is quirky, bubbly, sarcastic, awkward, funny confident and talented. She is working class. ELLIOT is serious, determined and not one for jokes (although he can also be sarcastic when the mood hits him, but he always sounds like a smart-ass when he does). He likes his job and will do anything to keep it, although he does sometimes get into comic situations when TISH pushes his buttons. He is middle class.  
The lead in a musical, which has been showing on Broadway for the past five weeks, was going to perform, but has called in sick at the last minute. TISH, being exceptionally talented, caught the eye of the producer before the show started and he wants her to stand in (she is unaware), much to the angst of ELLIOT. It is now mid-show and TISH is nowhere to be seen, and the producer asks ELLIOT to call her in via walkie-talkie. Unfortunately, his device is wireless and connected to the PA system in the theatre, and the whole audience of established celebrities are audience to their conversation, without their knowledge.]

ELLIOT: [professional-like] Tish Findwick, please come side stage, your mic is ready. Tish, if you're there, and you'd better be, please come side stage.

TISH: [imitating ELLIOT's professional-like tone] Elliot Ingram, I hear you loud and clear sir, although I must inform you that I am attending to a task that you personally asked me to see to. Sir.

ELLIOT: And what, prey, did I ask of you?

TISH: Well sir, you should remember! You asked me to take care of the car thief problem, so I'm out in the car park doing just that. Phwoh! You should see the expensive cars out here! I wish I could afford one of these beauties... Woah! A Jag! And it's green! I thought they only came in...

ELLIOT: [interrupts TISH's rambling] Tish! I don't care! You are required side stage in no less than four minutes!

TISH: I'm sorry sir, but I can't.

ELLIOT: Can't? Why not?

TISH: Because sir. I got one.

ELLIOT: Got one? Got one what?

TISH: A thief sir!

ELLIOT: A thief?

TISH: Yes sir! His name is Bobby and he's very nice! He promises not to steal any cars if I let him go. Should I sir?

ELLIOT: No you certainly should not! [pushes button on walkie-talkie] I've just sent security out there now. Now come inside! Can you get here in three?

TISH: [mumbled talking on other end]

ELLIOT: Tish?

TISH: Ah, sorry sir. I was just talking to Bobby. [calls off to side] Bye Bobby!

ELLIOT: Did you just let him escape? You could’ve waited till security got there!

TISH: About that sir...

ELLIOT: Wait. I'm checking the cameras now... is that... your car he's driving off in?

TISH: Um... yes sir.

ELLIOT: Why...?

TISH: Well sir... he was about to steal your car.

ELLIOT: So you let him steal yours? [sarcastic] Yep. That makes perfect sense...

TISH: Yes sir! You see, I've been wanting to get rid of that old thing for months; can't get a good buyer these days, and he's just saved me paperwork!

ELLIOT: You are a lost cause, you are! Just get side stage! You have two minutes!

TISH: [pause] ...what for sir?

ELLIOT: [sighs] It's the moment you've been waiting for! I... um... the producer... needs you sing that song you've been humming lately.

TISH: What...? Oh! You mean that 'Annie' song that you hate!

ELLIOT: [grumbles] Yes. That's the one.

TISH: Oh, well sir, I'm afraid that I'm gonna have to take a rain-check.

ELLIOT: What? Till when?

TISH: Tomorrow. [bursts into maniacal laughter]

ELLIOT: We don't have time for this! One minute!

TISH: Alright, alright! Don't get your middle-class knickers in a twist! I'll be there in a jiffy!

[TISH exits.]

ELLIOT: Thank you! [sighs]


End file.
